Stendan Ficlets
by zippystripe
Summary: So some of them are over the limit to count as regular drabbles. So what :P I flicked through a dictionary for 10 random prompts and this is the end result: a series of obscenely drippy drabbles. Enjoy. :) EDIT: Make that 20. I will update this with ten drabbles/ficlets per chapter.
1. Chapter 1

1. Count

It wasn't something he'd done before. Though having said that, most of the times they'd been here before were only quickies, behind closed doors, never longer than necessary unless Brendan could really help it (and very often, he couldn't, but he still hadn't allowed himself the luxury nonetheless). But it was different now, and as Ste lay sleeping, butt-naked and tangled in the sheets of his bed and snoring loudly, Brendan propped himself up on one elbow beside him. Meticulously he counted every blemish, scar and mole covering Steven's back; imperfect flicks of paint on a perfect golden canvas, illuminated by the early morning sun, burning the image and the exact number in his mind. He hadn't slept a wink.

2. Ride

It was a favourite position of theirs, cowboy. Reverse or forward-facing, it was divine. The first push in, hard and heady and deep and spine-shatteringly good. The slow, drawn out pull as his body released the older man's cock and slid back down again, forcing it into himself and letting out an obscene groan of satisfaction. He carried on like that, completely unaware of the effect he had on Brendan- like he always was. It was probably a confidence thing.

Brendan gripped his hips and stroked his hand up his back, pushing the younger man forward to lay down on him so they were chest-to-chest. The same hand stroked upwards and buried itself in Steven's dark blond hair, groaning into his neck as he thrust upwards, Ste's own moans muffling into the pillow near his head as they climaxed.

3. Seven

Seven years. He still couldn't believe it to this day. But as he looked down at the silly little cake Steven had made for the occasion, he didn't have the heart not to celebrate. He wasn't really one for anniversaries, really; when he was married to Eileen he had to be reminded more or less every year. But with Steven he always remembered. Of course, the fact that their anniversary was at Christmas helped somewhat.

"Go on then, blow it out," Steven said with a wide grin, making the lines that had started to appear around his eyes a little deeper. Brendan looked pointedly at the blue candle in the shape of a number seven and then wiped at some of the flour that had got stuck to his face affectionately.

"Shouldn't we really do it together?" He asked. "It's not my birthday. It's sort of ours."

His eyes glittered with affection at that. "Alright then." He replied after a minute. "Don't forget to make a wish."

Rolling his eyes, they blew the candle out at the same time.

_Seven more. _

4. Poke

_Poke_

What the hell was that? On your right thigh, jabbing against your leg.

_Poke_

"That better not be what I think it is."

A muffled giggle from the same direction, then a rather loud belch. He'd been out with Amy whilst she was on one of her occasional visits to Hollyoaks.

Right. Brendan sat up suddenly, surprising the younger man who let out a startled yelp as he was suddenly tackled onto the mattress. Brendan covered him with kisses and Ste laughed that ridiculous donkey laugh he'd come to be oddly dependent on to put him in a good mood.

"Brendan!" Ste called out drunkenly from beneath him, trying to stifle his giggles as the older man nibbled and licked his neck. "That tickles!"

"Ye call that a poke?" He asked as Ste squirmed beneath him wildly. "I'll show you what it's like to be fuckin' poked, boy." Ste cackled in response, and Brendan laughed back at him perversely.

It was a very good night.

5. Operation

Ste sat on the uncomfortable waiting room chair, fidgeting nervously. His knees were bouncing constantly and his hands gripped them like vices as he waited for news on his lover's condition. He hated waiting rooms. They were always filled with those gigantic chairs you had in primary school, upholstered with that scratchy, worn fabric. Biting his lip, he glanced up at the clock for what must've been the twelfth time that hour.

"Ste, love, relax. It's a three hour operation, he's been in there for an hour and a half, will you just calm down a bit?" Cheryl said from beside him.

"I can't," he replied, shaking his head and sighing. "What if it were the other way round, eh? What if he's not okay? What if he doesn't-"

"There's no use thinking like that, Ste. He'll be fine. The doctor said he's an ideal candidate for this."

"But-"

"But nothing. It'll be fine."

Turned out, it was. But Brendan sure did milk having Ste has his personal servant as he recovered. Ste was happy to look after him but he drew the line at the request to wear nothing but an apron when serving him food and smacked the older man upside the head for even considering it.

6. Sun

They were in Florida.

It was odd how things had turned out. It was the place they'd agreed to visit all those years ago now, when things weren't as good as they were now. It had been the holiday that never was; when Brendan had taken Ste's ultimatum and shattered his heart with it. They'd parted for the longest time ever after that. It'd felt like an eternity to both men.

But now, here they were, with both of their kids, and just them, at Disneyland. Oddly, it'd felt like a dream come true; a dream he hadn't even realised he'd had. Walking through the park with Brendan's hand clasped in his as Declan and Paddy walked ahead, holding hands with Leah and Lucas between them, the warm Florida sun beating down on their backs.

It was better than Ste could've imagined.

7. Excursion

Brendan wasn't sure how it happened exactly, but they'd gone into Chester to get his car put through it's MOT and do some shopping and somehow they had ended up in a dodgy B&B in Scarborough with a giant stuffed animal, an obscene amount of junk food, several cheap cans of lager and more silver coins than anyone would ever want.

It was a mystery. There had been the fleeting glance of an unpleasantly familiar face from years ago, then a lot of swearing, and a lot of arguing, and then a lot of unbelievably passionate sex on the creaky, ancient bed that squawked like an elderly, prudish relative who'd caught them in the act every time Brendan thrust into the younger man. But that didn't stop them. Steven's legs had locked themselves around his back and his moans and screams of pleasure had escalated until the landlady was banging on their door. They were asked to leave, unsurprisingly, and their mischievous, boyish grins plastered on their faces on their way out were met with an unimpressed glare.

Brendan was fairly certain that nobody was going to follow them after that commotion.

8. Old

Brendan stared at himself in the mirror, taking his glasses off and then putting them back on again. When he didn't wear his glasses, he could ignore the dark creases around his eyes, the slightly sparser hair atop his head and the grey at his temples. He could pretend, with his worsening eye sight, that he was still King-Ding-A-Ling, able to seduce any bloke he wanted into his bed with nowt more than a wink and a smile. Truth be told, he probably still could. But that wasn't his game anymore. Now, there was only one bloke he wanted in his bed and he slept there every night.

Steven walked up behind him, his hair still thick and blond (with only a slightly receding hairline), his eyes dotted with little crow's feet and deepened laughter lines. His skin was still golden though, and his smile and his eyes with their Bambi lashes made him look youthful as ever. But it was hard to believe sometimes that he was that same scrawny little waif who'd worked in his club.

"Hey," he whispered, his arms locking around the older man's shoulders. "You look gorgeous."

He sighed and looked at him affectionately. "It's a bit hard to remember that when you're around," he replied, and leaned back to kiss his laughing mouth deeply.

Brendan reasoned that it just meant that they'd been together a long time, and that felt infinitely better than looking young.

9. Halcyon

Ste's mind wasn't really registering much. There was the gentle hum of the fan in the corner of their bedroom, the soft breeze coming in through the window and rustling the curtain. It was a hot June day, and he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat on his naked body that he'd built up on his walk to the kitchen and back a little while ago. They said it was a heat wave on the news. The kind where you couldn't even bear to be outside. They weren't fucking joking.

Brendan was laying next to him on his stomach, naked, a book cradled in his hands against the pillows. Ste turned to face him and opened his eyes, looking over at his face. Bringing one hand up, he stroked the side of his face with one finger languidly. Brendan kissed it as it neared his mouth, not taking his eyes off his book but smiling, and Ste smiled back peacefully. Today was a perfect day. It was a Bank Holiday so they'd not been in work. There were no kids around, as they'd since gone back to Amy's upon her return from Namibia. They were in their own place, at last. It was perfect. No worries. No stress.

Bliss.

10. Mouse

Brendan almost died of laughter at the scene which welcomed him home. Steven was stood on a chair in the middle of the kitchen, broomstick in hand, looking as though he was about to be sent into battle with it. He was looking around the floor a bit wildly, not even registering his lover's return.

"Hello?" Brendan called again.

"Hiyer," Ste replied, but didn't take his eyes off the floor. "There's a mouse in here."

Brendan stifled a laugh. He was reminded of a scene in a 1950s cartoon of a housewife doing just the same thing. "Where did it go?"

"Under that unit there," Ste replied, nodding towards the one he was pointing the broom at.

"Let me," Brendan said. After a few minutes, Brendan didn't need to catch the animal, as behind the unit was an old mousetrap which looked like it had been there for some time, but had only very recently been activated, so to speak. He then dumped it unceremoniously outside the back door and into the rubbish collection.

After some bickering over the cruelty of the whole affair, Brendan lost patience and simply lifted the other man, bridal-style, off of the kitchen chair and carried him into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. It had been a long day, and despite the younger man's outraged flailing, Brendan was determined to bring it to a pleasurable end.


	2. Chapter 2

1. Explosive

Things between them had never been plain sailing; Ste, Brendan and seemingly the rest of Chester were aware of that. But what was that old saying? 'The course of true love never did run smooth…'

It helped then, on nights like these when Brendan was banished from the bedroom, and curled up on the sofa in the middle of the night with only a thin blanket and a single pillow snatched in a moment of anger. He'd stormed out of the bedroom after another of their rows - he forgot what it was about now… Oh that was it. Douglas. He'd seen them having a laugh in the deli, immediately assumed the worst and seemingly forgot that Doug was head over heels in love with a new man now (the new bouncer he'd hired at the club no less - a bit of a plonker in Brendan's honest opinion but overall pretty sound and with a rather nice arse… evidently Douglas had a type after all) and that he and Steven had made their peace. Not only that, but that Ste loved him, and that nothing and nobody else was ever going to come close to what he felt for Brendan.

Needless to say, they hadn't reached an agreement, hence why Brendan had flounced off.

But it was at about half one in the morning when Ste had walked up to the sofa, perched on the arm of it, and ran a hand through Brendan's hair. "You're such a queen sometimes, you know. You're worse than me." He muttered quietly, not wanting to disturb the stillness.

Brendan glared up at him through the blue chiaroscuro of the night. "Piss off. No one else has ever outdone you in that department."

Ste laughed quietly, and all the animosity that had been roaring between them earlier faded away like the daylight. One of the best things about their relationship now was that even though it had its bad moments, they were increasingly easier to extinguish the longer they were together.

Besides, sparks weren't always a bad thing. And there was one department where they were more than beneficial. Needless to say, they spent the rest of the night putting it into practice.

2. Public

Brendan was a secretive man by nature. He'd always been like that to some degree. Events in his life had exacerbated that quality in him into overdrive, and as a result it had sadly become the source of many of his downfalls. The effects of which were usually felt in his relationships most of all.

Accepting his sexuality had been extremely hard, but once he'd done it, he'd been presented with a whole new set of challenges. One of them had been everyone _knowing_ about him. Having even the slightest inkling of what he did behind closed doors. It bothered him. Even though nobody cared.

Making the transition from secretive to reasonably private in the shadow of his father's hostility concerning his sexuality (amongst other things) had been nearly impossible. He'd never thought, even after he kissed Steven to get back at Warren that time, so many months ago now, even after prison, even after being caught in the act in the office, even after he and Steven had argued publicly as Brendan chased after Eileen when she'd caught them that time, the worst time she could've done, when they were so close… Brendan still had difficulty with people knowing.

But oddly, it just didn't go that far anymore. When did that happen? Walking down the streets, his hand tangled with Steven's, kissing him in the doorway of the club after their lunchtime quickie, canoodling playfully in Price Slice while Darren Osbourne gave them a horrified look from the other end of the aisle… it had felt like the most natural thing in the world. The lights were on, the veil was lifted, the closet door well and truly unhinged. He still had a way to go, but as far as contentment and happiness went, he wasn't doing too badly.

3. Sympathy

Ste couldn't lie and say that he'd always understood Brendan. He'd always been as confused by him as he was fascinated. And Brendan Brady was certainly an odd man to behold, all things considered.

But Ste wasn't cruel. On the contrary, he was compassionate and kind, when he felt it was due. Which was why when, after having been woken up by a strange, animalistic whimper in the dead of night, he sat up, blinking blearily in the darkness of their bedroom, and looked over at Brendan. He reached over and flicked on the bedside lamp, and then all but flung his arms around the older man at the sight which greeted him as the light flooded the room.

"Brendan!" He said in surprise, waking up slowly. He stroked his shoulders and his arms, trying to get him to look him in the face. Brendan's eyes were wet and red around them, wide and wild, and he looked far too old for a man in his mid thirties.

It took a moment for it to click, but when it did, he snuggled closer, and laid them both down again. "It's alright," he whispered, gathering him up in his arms and kissing his head, stroking his hair and calming him. "It's alright," he muttered again. "He's not here anymore. He's gone. He can't get you anymore. No one's going to hurt you while I'm here. It's okay. You're safe."

Eventually, Brendan calmed down, and finally found a sleep that wasn't fraught with dreams of his father. Ste held onto him anyway, and stayed awake in case it happened again. He'd never understand how it felt, to have gone through that. He remembered the day he even found out about it. He'd wanted to be sick. He couldn't even imagine what it must've been like for Brendan to shoulder it all those years, and his heart swelled with compassion for him.

He just held onto the man he loved and didn't let go. There was probably little else he could do, and it seemed to help immensely. So that's what Ste did.

4. Twit

Drunk Steven was certainly an interesting experience. Brendan had known that he didn't exactly have a high capacity for alcohol. This explained why, after only a couple of pints of lager and a bottle of cider, he was currently on stage, tinsel around his neck and a sodding tutu lop-sided around his chest (fuck knows where that had come from - Brendan suspected he might've had it from Cheryl's cupboard but he couldn't be sure), a blow up doll and glitter at his feet, leaning all his weight on the microphone stand while he belted out 'True Colours' at the top of his drunken lungs.

Brendan had an expression of pure, confused horror etched onto his face from where he was leaning against the doorframe of the office. He told himself that he was only listening because Steven had slurred before breaking into song: 'this is for my Brendo', and Brendan just didn't have the heart (or the concern for his sanity) not to stand and listen while his boyfriend made a complete tit of himself in front of a (now luckily rather sparse) crowd of drunken punters.

He made his way up to the stage when the music on the karaoke machine abruptly switched to a Britney song and Steven got so suddenly over-excited that he dropped the microphone and looked like he was about to throw up.

"Eejit," he mumbled to him as he all but carried his drunken twit off stage.

5. Flutter

Ste had never had this feeling with anyone else.

They were sat at separate tables at Cheryl's swanky, extravagant engagement party, Brendan pretending to listen to some drunken, ancient auntie who'd been going on about how well her aubergines were doing for this time of year for almost twenty minutes. He'd picked up his glass and taken a sip of whiskey and glanced over at Steven momentarily, and winked.

Ste had been trying not to stare, but he'd grown bored of Cheryl and Leanne's girl talk ages ago, and his mind had naturally wondered. He felt his stomach flip when Brendan winked at him, and he grinned widely, a blush staining his cheeks.

No. No one else would ever have that effect on him.

6. Literacy

Brendan clicked the kettle on and rubbed his face, and then turned the look at the fridge momentarily. Furrowing his brow, he walked over to it. There was a note tacked onto the door of it that looked unmistakably like Steven's handwriting. He turned his head to the side and tried to make it out.

'had erly meeting at deli I 4got about got mor bred if u want toste love u ste xxx'

Several of the letters were backwards, but Brendan could understand it okay. There was indeed a new loaf of bread in the bread bin. And it explained why Brendan had woken up alone when it was supposed to be a day off for both of them. He smiled affectionately and folded the letter up before shoving it into the pocket of his jogging bottoms.

7. Nudity

Nudity was inevitable with them, now. Brendan picked up the pace of his thrusts and groaned as Steven released on his chest, his heels digging into his back and his fingernails scratching over old scratch marks on his shoulders, his hips bucking violently as Brendan joined him in that moment of ecstasy.

It was certainly a sight to behold, Brendan thought. If he had a personal museum full of things he liked, this particular view of his boy - man - would probably be the prime exhibit, all the time, and Brendan would be the only one allowed in to see it.

Steven, on his back, contorted breathlessly below him, not in pain but pleasure, sweat forming in droplets on his newly sun-kissed flesh. Brendan liked the Summer, not because of the warm weather, but because the sun did wonders to Steven's skin. Where Brendan's skin went red and peeled in the hot weather, Steven's went a beautiful shade of gold.

Not only that, but Ste was the kind of guy who really didn't have much of a tolerance for changes in temperature. He would often walk around their shared flat completely naked, not at all embarrassed or ashamed (it wasn't as if he had an excuse to be, considering the things they'd done together), and Brendan would stop what he was doing, and stare at the movement of flesh and muscle and bone. Just the other day he'd even dropped his phone in the sink while talking to Cheryl on account of Steven passing by in his birthday suit with a mischievous smirk on his face. Naturally, he'd fucked Steven on the counter instead of fishing it out of the water and put himself back over a hundred quid. Cheeky fucker.

8. Orchid

Brendan jumped slightly as Ste placed his hand unexpectedly on his shoulder from behind as he was crouched by the grave in front of him. He looked up at the other man with sad eyes and then glanced back down at the headstone before him.

One year ago today. Chez had been here early this morning but he'd had an early meeting with the club promoters that he'd put off for a fortnight already, so he'd not been able to cancel it. But he was here now, and he stood up to face Steven who was looking at him sympathetically, and took the large bouquet of orchids from his hands. Her favourite. Not lilies like Cheryl had originally thought she'd liked.

He sniffed as he stood up after arranging them on the grave, and Steven wrapped his arms around him from behind, kissing the back of his shoulder. "I don't think it's hot enough for them." Ste whispered quietly. "They probably won't last long."

"I know." Brendan replied softly, "but then, neither did she."

Ste gave him a sad look, and then pressed his cheek against the back of his shoulder and held him a little tighter.

9. Pathway

"Bren, where are we?" Steven asked as he was guided, blindfolded, up a garden path.

"Patience, Steven, we're almost there."

After a minute of walking (and Steven nearly tripping over a fucking garden gnome that had been left, stupidly, on the path), they came to a stop. "Are you ready?" Brendan asked, grinning in anticipation.

"Yeah." Brendan untied the blindfold, and grinned at the younger man to see his reaction.

He was quiet for a second, and simply stared. Brendan's face fell. "You don't like it?" He asked, panicked.

"No - yeah, I mean, I do - I just-"

"What?"

It was then that Brendan saw the slight wetness in his eyes. "I just… I never expected…"

Before them was an old redbrick house - probably built in the Victorian times or some shit, Brendan wasn't an expert on architecture - with ivy growing up the centre of it. It was double-fronted with massive windows, and the overgrown flowerbeds had grass growing up to their sills at the front. There was a mature birch tree growing near the side of it and there was what Brendan could only describe as a small forest obscuring the building from view of the main road.

"This is what the gap in the trees leads to," he said quietly.

Ste turned to look at him in shock. "Oh my God!" He exclaimed.

They'd been driving back from Manchester to drop Ste's kids off at Amy's, and Steven, as usual, had commented on the little pathway that slipped between two trees near the edge of the road. It was mysterious, and Brendan had decided to investigate. He'd found out that there was a house there which had been empty for some time. After having tracked down the owner and had the viewing, he'd placed an offer and got it cheap. It needed redecorating and probably some general repairs, but it was a good, strong house. And it was theirs now.

"Happy Birthday," he said, and jangled the keys. Ste made an excited squeal and jumped on him, placing a deep kiss on his mouth.

"Can we go inside? What's it like? How many bedrooms are there?"

He was like a kid. "Calm down," he said, and walked up to the front door. "We've got plenty of time."

10. Everlasting

Leah choked back tears as she looked at the piece of paper in her lap, and traced a finger over the portrait of her father and the words 'Funeral Service of Steven Hay'. The church was packed, and she sat up straight in her seat, trying to be the strong one. Her mother was in floods of tears beside her, leaning her head on her brother's shoulder and her elderly body dressed completely in black.

After the service, they made their way to the cemetery where her father's coffin was lowered into the ground. Looking up, she saw that the headstone had two names on it now - her father's, and Brendan Brady's above it. She remembered the man with the moustache who'd died several months before, the one she'd called 'Daddy Brendan' and 'the Hairy Man' as a little girl. She knew why her father wanted to be buried here.

At least he wasn't alone anymore.


End file.
